Our Love's Like A Star
by Sam the ham sandwich
Summary: Nothing ever goes as planned. Chances are taken. Choices are taken away. People are separated. Hearts are broken. When Blaine's parents ship him off to Italy for college, everything just falls apart. How far will Blaine go to set everything right?
1. Kurt

**OUR LOVE'S LIKE A STAR.**

**Chapter 1.**

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><p><em>The space in between us<br>Starts to feel like it's worlds apart_  
><em>Like I'm going crazy<em>  
><em>And it's raining in your heart. <em>

_— "My Love Is Like A Star" by Demi Lovato._

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><p>Kurt and Blaine haven't seen each other in two years.<p>

People always warn you that things change after high school. The friends who've been there for you for so long are suddenly unreachable as you head for different parts of the country. Their reassuring smiles that once guided you through the day are nothing but memories or pixels on the blinding blue light of your computer screen.

But they say the love never dies. No, it doesn't. They say that when you see each other again, it's as if you never left. It's like everything's the same, and the pieces that have been scattered by time and circumstance fall back into place. And the happiness comes back.

Kurt doesn't believe any of it, because when Blaine told him he'd be going to Italy, he didn't think it'd last more than a semester. The hugs that smelled like hair gel and airports. The kisses that were blown from airplane windows, only to be snatched up by the wind as it cut in between them.

Blaine told Kurt he loved him. And that they'd see each other again soon.

He was wrong.

At first, the phone calls made up for everything. Little stories about jet lag and sitting next to crazy old ladies and _real, non-American pizza_ were delightful. The joy in Blaine voice was everything Kurt needed to de-stress, to forget the competition between the students in NYADA. How the people there were nothing but business and Kurt seemed to fall in between the cracks and into the background. Except when he was singing.

Kurt kept his mouth sealed as Blaine continued on about the culture and the plays and how he's going to have to take his Italian lessons seriously. He didn't want to worry him. Kurt was doing fine, alone, in New York, where no one else bothered you and no one bothered caring about you.

Kurt thought life would be better in New York, but really, it was just more cruel.

When the time zones get the better of them. Kurt's always at school and Blaine's never at home and both of them are so busy that the calls become scarce. A rare occasion. They were little patches of sunlight in Kurt's daily routine. Homework and rehearsal and a sarcastic remark thrown at his expense. But at the end of the night, he'd wait by the phone, his assignments still unfinished on his desk, and wonder if maybe, maybe tonight Blaine will call.

But he doesn't, and everything falls back into that routine that he hates so so much. And still, no one's there like Blaine would've been. The friends he make aren't like the ones he had back then; the ones who cared about him and the ones who would sacrifice their careers for his happiness. These people meant business, and to them, Kurt didn't matter as much as getting ahead did.

He's lucky if Blaine calls once a week, but when he does, it's nothing short of refreshing. His voice is as animated as ever as he recounts tale of the many Italian women he had to turn down, and the kinds of plays he's been seeing and how wonderful the productions are. Kurt laughs as he hears about this one girl who actually burst into tears when Blaine told her he's gay, and honestly, it's the hardest Kurt's laughed in a while.

But they become less common. A text one a week. A call one a month. Little excuses and I'm sorry's and voice mails and Kurt can just feel the _guilt_ in the boy's voice so he can't bear to get hurt. But he gets hurt anyway. Because slowly but surely Blaine is slipping away and there's nothing he can do about it because he's all the way over there and with each mile he counts, the harder it becomes to keep the pieces of his heart together.

In time, the calls stop all together. Kurt doesn't notice it at first, but a week passes, and the another, and soon months have gone by and not a peep has been heard from the curly haired boy he had once called the love of his life.

"I don't think I can take it anymore, Rachel." Kurt whispered into the phone one particularly cold night. His breath was short and shallow and he was probably only minutes away from tears. Another rough day at rehearsal. Another sweat soaked undershirt and another solo that wasn't given to him because he didn't have the _right voice type_.

"I'm sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why he hasn't called you." The girl assured him, her voice soothing but still as confident as it had been years ago. Kurt tried to smile, he really did, but his attempts were futile.

"I know there is," He said, his voice uneasy, and his mind repeated it to himself. There is. There has to be. "I'm just so worried." He added, letting all the distress seep into his voice. There was nothing to hide from Rachel, not when she was miles and hours away.

"He's fine." She insisted, and Kurt could hear the doubt in her voice. It pierced him.

When they hung up, Kurt let his head fall against the wall he was slumped again, and just cried. It was painful to miss someone.

One night, it's all too much for one boy. Kurt's walking back to his apartment, muttering to himself about sheet music and dance steps and that one stupid girl who keeps stepping on his toes on purpose — that's when he snaps. The door slams a little too hard. His feet drag a little too heavily. The phone's blinking and he doesn't bother to check the messages because he's so damn tired of it all.

As he walking to his bed, his feet suddenly stop working. They're planted on the spot and Kurt's mouth is agape and he swears, if he hadn't clenched his fists, he would've broken down crying then and there. Because this isn't the life he envisioned for himself when he came to New York, and he didn't expect to come home to an empty bed and cold sheets.

For the first time in his life, Kurt feels completely and utterly alone.

He falls face first into his pillow and passes out almost instantly. Kurt was tired of it all.

And his dreams are filled with that one voice he wants to hear; that sweet, smooth baritone of the boy he thought would always be there, but was snatched away by opportunity and success, by a one in a lifetime chance that became the reason for their separation. His curls bounce as they laugh, and for a moment, Kurt actually thinks this is all happening and he finally has him ba—

At three in the morning, the shrill electronic sound of the phone pierces the night air and Kurt jolts awake.

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><p><em>AN: Sorry for any inaccuracies regarding life in Italy or in NY. I've never been to either of those places. I'm just writing this for fun :) Hope you enjoyed it. Next part will be up sometime this week. I promise, since writing is my favorite method of procrastination and it's midterm time._

_EDIT: added some, since i seriously thought it was lacking. sorry for the still eminent lack of quality._


	2. Blaine

**OUR LOVE'S LIKE A STAR.**

**CHAPTER 2**

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><p><em>You're telling me nobody's there<em>

_To dry up the flood  
>Oh, but that's just crazy.<br>'Cause baby, I told you.  
>I'm here for good.<em>

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><p>Blaine didn't want to leave Kurt. He really didn't, but life was against him. Life being a mixture of his schooling, his parents and his professors. All of whom wanted him to seize the day, take the opportunity, and worst of all, leave behind the one person who was able to make him truly happy.<p>

Kurt supported him all the way. That day, that faithful day, that Blaine announced that someone offered him a scholarship to an Italian school—everything was beautiful. The joy on Kurt's face, the congratulations whispered into curls and the hugs that were so tight, they could've cut off their blood circulation.

The joy didn't last long.

The choice was snatched away from him. What if Blaine didn't want to leave his life behind for a bunch of snooty Europeans? What if he wanted to stay here—with Kurt—and pursue their dreams_ together_?

His parents would've have any of it. This is what's best for you. Why waste such an honor? You'll learn so much. You'll have a ton of fun. It'll be a wonderful learning experience. You'll love the food. They'll love your talent. They'll teach you things you wouldn't have even dreamed of.

Bullshit.

Not long after that, Blaine was standing in his room, one of his signature patterned shirts on and smooth against his chest. There was silence as Kurt adjusted the bow tie that matched his outfit oh so perfectly, and pain as he looked into the hazel eyes of the boy he loved.

The galaxies in Kurt's eyes have never felt more distant.

Goodbye was never a pleasant word. Whoever made it must have been a fan of irony, because there is absolutely nothing good about goodbye. At least, not in Blaine's eyes. All he wanted was to be able to bring the beautiful boy he met with him, but he couldn't.

What his parents say, goes.

Blaine's feet lands on Italy and for a moment, his sadness leaves him. The country is beautiful and he's more than a little bit lucky to live here, to experience everything. And maybe, just maybe, he could forgive his parents for forcing him to go.

At least, for now.

To compensate for all the lost time, he calls Kurt. Whenever he gets his hands on a phone that's capable of calling overseas, he calls Kurt. At first, the conversations are light-hearted and sweet, just like they're going out every morning and chatting over coffee.

But that was before school started.

One day, Blaine gets a call in the middle of class and his ringtone is loud and annoying. His professors stares him down as he pulls out his cell phone and silences it, ignoring the tug at his heart when he sees the name on the caller ID. _Kurt_.

And Blaine's so guilty for the rest of the class that he almost passes out as he's finishing his first assignment because this _has_ to be perfect and he _has_ to have good grades because he's there and he _has_ to be away for Kurt so why not make the most out of it?

When he falls asleep, his phone is buried deep inside his bag and he's snoring really loud and his roommate walks in at two in the morning to a mess and a passed out curly haired boy at his desk.

Every weekend, his parents visit his dorm, because his school is twenty minutes away and they don't have to work as much because of their relatives there who are willing to support them while they settle into the new country and Blaine can't help wonder why they're settling in.

But wait, why do they have jobs?

Blaine asks them why they decided to come with him and why they're working and why they _have_ to settle in and then it sinks in.

They're not going back.

Mr. and Mrs. Anderson did not arrive on the same plane as their son, and therefore he wouldn't have seen the boxes that came with them or the huge bill they needed for the extra luggage and they needed the extra luggage because they didn't just bring enough clothes for a holiday.

They brought everything, and they had a place to stay and a way to earn the support their son and suddenly their encouragement for Blaine to _take this great opportunity_ made _all the sense in the world_ but he still needed an explanation.

He yelled at his parents that night. Blaine yelled and argued and screamed at his parents who had never thought about what he wanted and always decided on _what was best for him_ even though they didn't know _squat_ about him or his life or what he wants.

And right now, what he wants is _Kurt_.

When his father puts his foot down and threatens to actually hurt Blaine like those bullies did to him all those years ago, he stops talking. The voice that comes out of his mouth doesn't sound like his at all. It's slow and low and calm yet nervous, all at once.

"Tell me why."

And his mother comes and tries to hug him but he flinches and she wonders where she went wrong when really, she knew all along.

Mr. Anderson's angry sigh comes out a lot harsher than he had hoped and when he finally says what motivated him, it crack's Blaine's heart in two and makes him want to crash out of that window and into the busy foreign street.

"We didn't want you with _that boy_."

His tone is hostile and almost disgusted that it sends Blaine into a frenzy that almost ends in him punching his father in the jaw for the pure disrespect he just gave Kurt. _His Kurt_, who is a wonderful and amazing and _absolutely perfect in every way imaginable_ that he doesn't deserve to be called "_that boy_" by someone as _despicable_ as Blaine's father.

And when Mr. Anderson finally draws the line, he takes Blaine's phone and storms out, his mother trailing slowly behind them.

"We expect flawless grades this semester." He hears through the door, and he just loses it.

Blaine crumpled onto the floor because this—this thing that was supposed to be happy and a wonderful thing for him. It was all for the benefit of his parents. They didn't care if he was sent to Australia or London or even China—just as long as he was away from "_that boy_."

His father's voice rang in his ears—assumptions and speculations about everything that had happen since that day he introduced his beloved and oh so beautiful boyfriend to his closed-minded parents.

What if he never saw Kurt again? True, he was eighteen and he could just leave—get on a plane and leave his parents for good, but where'd he get the money? He couldn't pull it out of his ass. His parents gave him enough to live by, and that was it.

Blaine needed to think of a plan, but for now, all he could do was curse himself for not memorizing Kurt's phone number when he had the chance.

The next day, Blaine buried himself in his studies, trying to find a way to get on his parent's good side. Maybe his father will give him back his phone. Maybe his mother would sneak him Kurt's number. He knew that _she_ wasn't heartless.

Weeks filled with papers, tests, recitations, and presentations, Blaine didn't even think about going online. He spent most of his time on the library and _not_ on Facebook that he almost forgot he had one.

He couldn't anger his parents more. He couldn't. Blaine ignored the heartache and the fact that he knew, he just knew that Kurt would be worried, mad even. But Blaine couldn't think about that. He couldn't. He couldn't afford to, not with his parents almost breathing down his back.

During a bit of free time he had, he went online, fully intending to send Kurt a long ass message apologizing for his absence and lack of calls, but when he tried to log on, it gave back an error.

How had they known his password?

This was screwed up, Blaine thought, as he ran back to his dorm room, his feet hitting the ground with as much force as he could manage, which was a lot, considering how small he was.

The door slammed, almost making the room shake. Thank god Blaine's roommate wasn't there. The last thing he wanted was some random Italian guy watching him cry.

His pillow muffled most of his scream, but that didn't help. He needed a clearing, somewhere no one would hear him. Somewhere…no one would judge him for being this helpless.

Blaine didn't notice the note taped to his desk.

So he was right. She wasn't heartless.

It was written in the loopy and smooth script Blaine had seen for years. That handwriting had told him about her hectic work life, her busy schedule and how she wouldn't be able to make it for dinner.

And there is was.

"I'm so sorry."

Any other time, Blaine would've crumpled up the note and thrown it all the wall with full force. Thinking that she was several years too late. How much of coward she was for not standing up for her baby boy. How much he hated her.

But right under her written apology was Kurt's phone number. Straight from his cell phone.

Before it registered in his mind, Blaine was running out the door, up the stairs and down the hall, to the only person he really knew. This nice young girl named Amelia who had looked at Blaine with shy eyes the first time they met, only to realize that he didn't swing that way. She held no grudges. They were friendly.

Blaine didn't have anyone else.

He rapped his knuckles on the wooden door, positive that he would have woken up the whole floor had he been any louder, but he didn't care. Glancing at his watch, he realized it was six in the morning.

When had he fallen asleep?

The blonde girl groggily opened the door, and in her sleepy voice, demanded to know what Blaine was doing at this hour.

Blaine begged to borrow her cell phone, saying it was important, because it_ was_. Amelia heard the desperation in his voice, and handed over her phone, no less confused. He quickly dialled the number and held the phone to his ear. He needed Kurt's voice. Blaine needed to tell him he was okay and that he was sorry.

How long had it been?

Weeks.

The dread settled into his heart. Kurt's probably angry. Kurt's_ definitely_ angry. Before he knew it, tears were falling down his face as he heard rigging on the other line.

Amelia closed the door, thinking that maybe he needed privacy, leaving him alone in the hallway.

"_Please pick up."_

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><p><em>AN: midterms. yeah. i realize this is probably full of inconsistencies again but i will reiterate that i write all of this from the top of my head and for fun, so if there are any errors, i'm sorry. and if you see anything wrong, feel free to message me. all the love to you xo._


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